The Baking Challenge
by selbokar
Summary: Erik thinks he's going to be able to make pancakes in peace. Moira does not intend on letting that happen. Set during First Class. *No romance between these two, just friendship*


All the children were outside playing capture the flag. Erik could hear them screaming and shouting and laughing together like the big happy family they were. Occasionally (actually it was more often then Erik could count) Charles would shout at them to be careful, or to not hurt themselves. He was ridiculous.

Erik laughed to himself. They were children. They would do whatever they wanted, and Charles would have no way to stop them. Unless, of course, he froze their minds with his telepathy, but Erik highly doubted the man would sink that low. "_HEY!_" he heard Alex shout, "No powers!"

There was the sound of someone hitting the ground and Raven laughing, and Alex swearing, and then everyone was laughing and swearing. Charles was shouting at them to stop fighting, and then Erik heard _his_ scream. _Erik help me!_ Charles' voice rang clear in Erik's head. _They've made a dog pile! Erik I am drowning in children!_

_Charles there's what? Four of them plus Moira? How are you calling _that_ drowning?_ The German projected toward his telepath friend, who just cursed rudely at him in response. _I'm not coming out to help you, Charles. _

There was more laughter and Charles shouting, "No, no!" several times, before his telepathic response came, _Don't be ridiculous, Erik. The fresh air would do you good._ Erik rolled his eyes, standing from his place on the couch and walking toward the kitchen.

_It isn't as if there's no air in here,_ he responded as he flicked open the refrigerator with his hand. _Besides_, he went on as he dug through the containers of food. _There's _food_ in here. I'm getting some dinner. You can stay and play with our kids._

Charles grumbled in response, and Erik could hear him screaming at the children 'Not to throw him in the lake dear lord above what is _wrong_ with them?' And then the _splash_ of a body hitting the water, followed by the hysterical laughter of all the children. The man stopped rummaging in the fridge and sighed. There was no good food.

Well... there _was_ food. But it wasn't anything _he_ wanted to eat. Erik knew he shouldn't take food for granted, seeing as he was starving throughout most of his childhood, but he couldn't help being such a picky eater. At least he didn't flat out refuse to eat things like Sean would often do at dinner.

However, he reopened the fridge and decided with a humph to make himself some pancakes. They had all the ingredients, and nobody seemed to be planning on eating dinner any time soon, so pancakes seemed like a good idea.

The thought of eating put him in a fairly good mood, to the point where he switched on Charles' radio that sat on the kitchen counter, and he hummed along to a catchy tune that had begun to play. Erik had three different bowls and various ingredients all splayed out on the counter, and he was levitating spoons and pans and such to prepare for making his pancakes.

But everything changed when Moira walked in.

"Hey Erik," she chimed as she strolled into the room, hopping up onto the table behind him, looking all too cheerful. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, and she wore a teal shirt under an enormously large white lab coat. Erik thought she looked ridiculous. "What're you doing?"

The man stood with his back to her, only turning his head slightly, his good mood suddenly diminished. "Plotting a homicide," he sneered, and only vaguely saw Moira's confused and undeterred face. "What do you want?"

The woman had strolled up behind him, somehow without Erik actually realizing this, and she was now peering over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Pancakes? Lensherr, you do realize it's five at night, don't you?" she commented, leaning on the counter top with her elbow, transferring all of her weight to that side.

"I do realize this, _MacTaggert_," he spat the name, earning another eyebrow raise from Moira, "And I'm not interested in your help, if that's what you want to know." The woman simply looked at him with an amused expression.

Erik, now desperate to get her out of the kitchen, glared his harshest glare and picked up a knife with his mind. Moira just looked annoyed. "I'm not going to ask if I can help, because _clearly_ you're not interested in my _meager human assistance_," she dramatically stated, swaggering to the other side of the room with the back of her hand resting ridiculously over her forehead. "_However!_" she flung open the refrigerator with all her might, and began to collect things from it. "I am going to _rival your pancakes_," Moira continued, tossing things down on the countertop opposite Erik. "With some absolutely _fantastic_ _cup_cakes."

The German was at an absolute loss for words, and stood there for quite some time with his mouth hanging open like an idiot. By the time he was snapped out of his daze, Moira had already stolen his tub of butter. "Did you..." he began, holding his finger up limply as if to point at her, "Did you _actually_ just _challenge_ me to a _baking contest_?"

Moira flashed him a dazzling smile, and tossed a bowl and several spoons down on the counter. "And you'd better get cooking soon, cause you're losing right now, Lensherr," she smirked, measuring out flour and dumping it into a bowl.

Erik, not seeing a way out of this competition, shrugged. "You're on, MacTaggert," he shot back, and began to work. He was moving three times faster then Moira was, using his powers to levitate different spoons to stir different things all at once, and yet _somehow_ she was still doing better. Erik decided he needed to step up his game.

He dashed over to the fridge, his black turtleneck already covered in flour, and wrenched the door open. Erik searched for a moment, and then found them; chocolate chips. He ran back to where his ingredients were, and tossed some into the batter, whipping the spoon around in the bowl to mix it up. Moira had run over to the fridge as soon as he had closed it, and she was now pouring some beer into her cupcake batter.

Erik looked over at her with confusion as she took a swig and set it down on the counter. "What are you doing putting beer in fairy cakes?" he questioned as she reevaluated and took another drink of the liquid. Moira looked up at him with her face full of sass he'd never encountered before.

"First of all, _Lensherr_, they're called _cupcakes_. Second, they're my own recipe. I fill the batter with beer and the frost with _whisky!_" she grinned maniacally as she climbed on top of the counter to reach Charles' alcohol cabinet, which was placed conveniently above her. Erik ignored her as she rummaged, and then stopped mid stir, and decided to mix things up with his pancakes.

He flung open the cabinet above Moira, once she'd climbed off the counter and started mixing her whiskey icing, and peeked around to see what he needed. _Charles _does_ have rum. Good._ Erik lifted his hand and levitated a spoon over and into the cabinet, wrapping it around the bottle of rum and moving it over to his workplace.

Erik stared at the woman's chocolate batter for a long moment, and then used the levitating fork to grab up the cocoa powder from her workplace, bringing it over and measuring some for his mix. Moira had taken several swigs of the whiskey, as well as downed the rest of the beer and half another bottle, and she was still moving faster then him.

He swore in German, "Du kannst mich mal!" and was surprised when he heard Moira respond from across the room with,

"Du kannst mich mal zu, fotze." Erik stared in confusion for a long moment, slightly in admiration at her knowledge of the German language, but also slightly horrified at the incredibly rude name she'd called him. It was impressive. He didn't know she had it in her.

"You're falling behind, Lensherr!" Moira sang as she put her cupcakes into the oven. Erik hadn't even realized she'd gotten that far ahead. He snapped back into gear, putting his pancakes on the stove, which, lucky for him, was across the room from Moira, so he wouldn't have to stand directly next to her in waiting.

She continued to take occasional swigs of the whiskey and was onto her third beer, mixing the frosting in a bowl with expert ease. Erik realized that he didn't have anything to top the pancakes with. _Damn_, he swore, thinking up something he knew tasted good on top of pancakes. What went well with chocolate and rum?

_More... rum._

Erik produced the maple syrup from inside the refrigerator, and dumped a large amount into a new bowl. He then poured a bit of rum and a bit of cocoa powder into it, mixing well.

He flipped his pancakes. Moira's cupcakes were finished. He poured the remainder of the batter onto the pan. Moira finished off another beer as she stared at her cooling cupcakes. Erik hurriedly continued flipping the pancake. Moira deemed her cupcakes cool enough, and began to ice them. Erik finished the pancakes and flipped them onto a plate. Moira was one away from being done with her cupcakes. Erik poured the syrup he'd made on top of the pancakes.

"Done!" they both shouted at the same time, spinning so they were face to face with each other, staring intensely with wide smiles on their faces. Moira glanced over his shoulder and looked at his creation, sitting casually on a plate.

"Good job, Lensherr. I congratulate you on winning second prize," she joked, taking a bow. "However, the winner has to be Moira MacTaggert and her fantastic cupcakes." Erik made a mockingly hurt face, putting a hand over his heart.

"You _wound_ me, MacTaggert," he whined, shaking his head. "And clearly... _I_ am the winner!" he shouted, picking up a handful of flour and tossing it at her. Moira looked appalled for a moment, before her face adapted a daring expression, and she stuck her hand in the bag of sugar, chucking it as hard as she could in Erik's face.

It hit it's target straight in the nose, and he spluttered, scooping remainders of the cocoa powder and throwing it at her. Moira laughed, and Erik laughed, and the two stopped, staring at each other. "Wanna have a beer?" asked the woman after a long pause of breathing.

Erik smiled at her and nodded. "I'd love to have a beer," he said decidedly, and the two picked up their food and opened the fridge, each grabbing a bottle of the golden liquid. "Haven't you already had several?" Erik inquired as Moira popped the cap off with the edge of the counter. She shrugged.

"I have a massively strong tolerance for alcohol," she said casually, taking a large drink and walking toward the sitting room. "C'mon. I want to try your pancakes."

And with that, Moira swaggered over to the couch and plunked down, switching on the radio that sat behind her. "Friend!" she demanded, making grabbing motions in his direction, "Come here. Pancakes. Mighty need."

As Erik walked into the sitting room, he realized that he had absolutely no reason to hate the woman in front of him. And he was glad that they could be friends.

* * *

_Du kannst mich mal_ - Fuck you

_Du kannst mich mal zu, fotze_ - Fuck you too, cunt


End file.
